Reparation
by Delwin
Summary: Sometimes things need to be broken before they can be reset... Paris and Janeway in the aftermath of "Thirty Days". Written for the VAMB 2013 Secret Summer Exchange.
1. I

**Author's note**: Written for** VAMB SS2013** exchange and for **Cheshire** who requested a _"Janeway and Paris friendship story, they are forced to reconcile after Thirty Days"_ – a heart-stopping request given the several brilliant stories by amazing authors that touch on the subject. But, once the initial terror receded, the prompt was exactly the push I needed to revisit a theme that has continued to percolate in the back of my brain since it came up in my first _Voyager _piece and to explore just what might have propelled Tom Paris to become a "cause kind of guy".

All my stories come from the same mental universe, and this one makes reference back to "What Comes Before", though it should stand on its own as well. In my own head, it also bookends "Straight Road Lost and Trouble Found", but my head is a rather strange place with quirks of its own.

A thousand thanks to **Photogirl1890 **for everything from encouraging the initial idea to proof-reading at the end.

_Voyager_ and her crew do not belong to me - my apologies, again, for injury done to them in the course of this story. I did try to put at least most of the pieces back together by the end.

* * *

"_I went on this mission expecting to play out a childhood fantasy, but along the way when I realized that ocean would just be gone one day, it started to matter to me. It sounds pretty stupid, huh?"  
"No. No, it sounds like you've found yourself a cause."  
"I never thought of myself as a cause kind of guy."  
_-Tom Paris and B'Elanna Torres, "Thirty Days"

**Reparation**

**I.**  
"_Well, then, I guess I'm yours."_

It had been a throwaway line because what the hell are you supposed to say when a Starfleet captain comes to chat with you in prison? Kathryn Janeway. She hadn't introduced herself by rank. No need. The pips would do the work for her.

Kathryn Janeway and Thomas Eugene Paris. They must have made an interesting pair strolling across the grounds of the penal settlement. Visitors to Auckland were rare as a rule. Most of the inmates hailed from the outlying systems of the Federation, far from the virtual paradise that Earth had become. Those few who were natives of the planet had done their best to cut all ties with it years before – as had Tom himself.

_"__I served with your father on the Al-Batani."_

As usual, his best wasn't quite good enough.

Two children of Starfleet admirals – yes, he knew the name Janeway; how could he not? – the fast-tracked captain and the disgraced inmate. Quite a pair indeed.

She probably thought the deal she offered was simple: lead us to your former shipmates. In return, an earlier chance at release. (_Not freedom. He had given that up long ago if he had ever possessed it at all_.) An easy choice for a mercenary.

Except Tom had never really been a mercenary until he accepted that deal.

* * *

"I guess I'm all yours. At least for the next couple of hours."

That earned him a death glare; apparently she hadn't missed his reference. Though more likely she was just pissed off at him for disobeying a direct order. Again.

Twice in a year. Actually three times if you counted that little incident in the Void. But the entire senior staff had been in on the mutiny that time. She couldn't possibly hold that against him, could she?

Yeah, well, probably she could.

He sighed and crouched down in front of her. At least the ground appeared to holding properly still for the moment. He had already tended to her head wound as best as he was able. Now for her other major injury.

"Captain, I need to try to set your leg. Harry and B'Elanna should have us out of here before too long," ..._if t__hey made it to the surface. _His stomach lurched, and he buried that line of thought..."but it would be better to have it in a brace sooner rather than later."

She nodded, clenching her teeth in anticipation. He had already given her a general analgesic; he dared not give her anything stronger without knowing the full extent of her head injury. Pulling off his uniform jacket and pushing up his sleeves, he pulled out one of the expandable braces that the Doc had long ago added to the standard medkits. Ever so carefully, he positioned the brace beneath the Captain's thigh, wincing as even that slight jostling elicited a hiss of pain. With a long bandage that could be used as bindings nearby (another of the Doc's additions), he mumbled an apology as he gently but firmly grasped her leg above and below the break. Fortunately, the fracture to her femur appeared to be clean and straight-forward. Nonetheless, it took all his strength to forcefully straighten the limb against the natural contraction of her muscles, and sweat beaded on his brow as he slid the pieces of the bone back into alignment. Leg set, he snapped the brace into place and began to wrap the bindings for reinforcement. Only then did he allow himself to return conscious attention to his pale and sweat-drenched patient.

"You're not bad at that, Mr. Paris."

He grinned thinly as he continued to work on the bindings. "Had your leg set in the field many times before, Captain?"

"A couple," she admitted ruefully.

"The Doc is a good teacher," he deflected, finishing the knot.

Leg now braced, she shifted against the cave wall to sit up...more comfortably? No, she was Kathryn Janeway. Diminutive, down a limb and sprawled on a rocky floor covered with crystal debris, she had still adjusted her posture to command more authority.

"I ordered you to leave me behind, Mr. Paris."

Of course she wouldn't let it pass. And yet, he noted that, even in that moment, she avoided his rank.

"Yes, ma'am."

"You disobeyed a direct order."

"Yes, ma'am."

She sighed against the lack of any reaction in his tone. "Are you intending to make this a habit, Ensign?"

And there it was at last. He knew...something flashed across his expression at that, and he knew she wouldn't miss it, even in the dimly lit cavern.

"Permission to speak freely, Captain?"

"Tom..." she began in a tone which someone who didn't know her better might interpret as regret. But he kept his expression masked and neutral until she added, "Permission granted."

He relaxed a touch, letting her see his real concern. "There was no way in hell we were following that order and leaving you down here."

"Harry and B'Elanna did."

There he hesitated. His two friends had been convinced to continue only by the force of his quickly formulated but undeniable argument that their technical skills would be needed to rescue those remaining behind, whereas his medical skills could best immediately serve the captain. But, he was unwilling to implicate the two people closest to him in his crimes.

"We were not leaving you down here," he finally repeated. "And I'll be happy to serve another month in the brig if it gets you out of here alive."


	2. II

**II.**  
_"I would have destroyed your shuttle if necessary."_

They had been words spoken in anger, or at least in pique, bent on eliciting a reaction and punching through that infuriating Paris mask of unconcern. (She remembered the same mask on another face from her first tour of duty. Then, it had been equally unassailable, but had inspired confidence rather than annoyance.) She had wondered afterward if those words had been the truth, or if he had believed them to be. One way or the other, they were likely unnecessary on top of everything else.

Everything else: loss of rank and thirty days in the brig.

It wasn't as if she had thrown the book at him, exactly. He had disobeyed a direct order, commandeered a shuttle, threatened relations in a first contact situation _and_ broken the Prime Directive. In the Alpha Quadrant, his actions would have had him drummed out of Starfleet. As Tom knew better than anyone. He'd already been cashiered for less.

She hadn't thrown the book at him, but she hadn't given him a pass either. And she had done so before. B'Elanna, Tuvok, Seven, Chakotay – all had been the beneficiaries of some generous Delta Quadrant wiggle room. Tom hadn't left her with that option.

They hadn't exactly been avoiding each other over the last few months. There really hadn't been any need. Her helmsman had become conspicuously popular, and she had seldom come upon him off-duty without company. Whenever possible, B'Elanna was at his side, not bothering to hide a particularly protective posture towards her mate when the Captain was also present. More often than not, Harry was there as well, rounding out the trio or pairing up with Tom for some adventure on the holodeck. If not those two, Megan or Jenny Delaney could be found with the pilot, or, more surprisingly, one of the former Maquis crew members, Jarvin, Dalby or Ayala – men who wanted nothing to do with Tom at the beginning of their journey – hovered nearby.

The message was clear: Tom's friendships and his standing on the ship had only solidified after his stint in _Voyager_'s brig, number of pips be damned.

The one time they had been alone for any length of time was when she had been drafted into his Captain Proton holoprogram in an attempt to save the ship and he had briefed her for her role as 'Arachnia, Queen of the Spider People'. That conversation had been...odd, and not just because of the nature of the information Tom had been imparting. Even as he loquaciously filled her in on the details of his creation, something had felt off. It hadn't been until later that she put words to what had been missing: that particular, irresistible Tom Paris spark to his eye – that promise of mischief with its invitation to join in the fun. Only at the end of the program, as they stood over Chaotica's holographic corpse, had Tom's defenses slipped as he watched her bid goodbye to their shared nemesis. The moment had been short-lived, however, as B'Elanna had met the pilot at the holodeck doors, fingering that leather jacket with none-too-subtle suggestiveness.

As a consequence of all of that, she hadn't exactly been looking forward to this away mission.

The Abiteri had colonized a moon replete with dilithium, a fuel source for which their technology had no use. The colonists' interest was in the moon's natural caves where the dilithium happened to thrive - the ideal habitat for the photosensitive race. When _Voyager_ had contacted them about trading for mining rights, the Abiteri had been happy to discuss a possible deal, but only with Captain Janeway herself and only on their home turf. Since it would be necessary to determine the viability of extracting the crystals without damaging the colonists' home, B'Elanna and Harry would need to accompany her. And since the strongly ionized atmosphere of the moon precluded the use of transporters and would make flying a shuttlecraft tricky, Tom was the natural fourth to the away team.

The triumvirate was not exactly the portion of her senior staff in whose company she would have chosen to spend a few hours time.

_As opposed to all the members of your staff with whom you are currently on such good terms, Kathryn?_

She had let the thought pass without too much reflection as she climbed into the _Delta Flyer_ minutes before their scheduled departure. She also allowed the sudden cessation of the chatter that had filled the cabin before her arrival to go unremarked upon. The silence lasted only a few seconds before Tom and Harry gamely launched back into conversation; B'Elanna busied herself with the final flight preparations at the engineering station.

Kathryn took the open seat across from Harry, only half-listening to the steady banter between the two men. Chakotay commed in from the bridge with their clearance to depart and wishes for a safe and fruitful journey. After a final pre-flight check, Tom expertly launched the _Flyer_ up and out into open space.

While Tom was occupied with setting their course, conversation again lapsed into a less than comfortable silence. Kathryn could hear Harry fidgeting beside her until finally he burst out with, "So, I hear the Arbiteri are an entirely subterranean species."

Gleaning that the comment was being volleyed in her general direction, Kathryn responded with what little enthusiasm she could muster: "It seems so. They tell us that their home planet's crust is over ninety percent calcite and aragonite and is riddled with extensive caves. Their species apparently evolved within those caves."

"I wonder what we'll run into next?" Harry babbled, building momentum. "In the last few months we've seen a twenty-ninth century Borg drone, a race of photonic beings, a re-creation of Starfleet Academy being used as an alien training ground, a planet that was entirely ocean..." and she watched, fascinated despite herself by the inevitable train wreck, as the ensign's brain caught up with his mouth. "Or...what I meant...um..."

Inexorably, her eyes were drawn down to the pilot's chair. Tom's face was taut and still, but he otherwise gave no reaction. "Harry," B'Elanna broke in from the engineering station behind them, her voice as tight as the helmsman's expression. "I need a check on the lateral stabilizers before we enter the moon's ionosphere. _If _you aren't otherwise occupied." Harry gratefully turned his attention to his console.

So, in summary, her ops officer was so nervous that he was tripping over his own words, her chief engineer was ignoring her with an air of undisguised hostility and her helmsman's expression was as guarded as Earth's old Fort Knox. It was hard to escape a less than pleasant feeling of _deja vu_.

Fortunately, the flight down to the moon's surface was not a long one, and, once they hit the atmosphere, the turbulence that rocked the _Flyer_ even under Tom's steadying hand discouraged further conversation.

Despite the rough flight, their landing was refreshingly uninteresting, and Harry set about determining whether the moon's ion-heavy atmosphere would require environmental suits. His conclusion that the air would be tolerable to their lungs met with an open sigh of relief from B'Elanna – a sentiment that Kathryn shared, considering the nearly two kilometer-long trek through a series of caves that they would need to make in order to reach the meeting site.

Whatever their current feelings towards their commanding officer might be, Kathryn could not fault the professionalism of her officers. Phasers, tricorders and wrist lights were distributed, and B'Elanna and Harry put together the more specialized equipment they would need to determine how best _Voyager_ might go about extracting the dilithium. Once the _Flyer _was secured, they were ready to make their way out onto the moon's surface. As an afterthought, Tom grabbed one of the emergency medkits stowed in the shuttle. Kathryn caught the questioning look B'Elanna shot him, but the pilot shrugged. "It will earn me some brownie points with the Doc."

Gusting, punishing winds generated by the ionic storms combined with generous amounts of free-flying, gritty dust greeted them upon their descent from the _Flyer_. For a moment, Kathryn almost regretted leaving the environmental suits behind. With all possible alacrity, they pushed their way through the gale and into the protected entrance to the Arbiteri's caves.

"Lovely vacation spot," Paris quipped as soon as he recovered his voice, drawing two pairs of rolled eyes. Kathryn merely glanced down at her tricorder to confirm the path to their destination and replied shortly, "One I'll be happy to leave as soon as possible. Let's get moving."

The cave narrowed into a winding tunnel, lower than was strictly comfortable by human standards. Kathryn and B'Elanna were able to walk fully upright, though barely. Harry shuffled along at a slight stoop, and Tom sighed and stretched gratefully whenever they moved into one of the more spacious caverns that dotted the trail at semi-regular intervals. Harry and B'Elanna entered those spaces with an entirely different kind of appreciation.

"I've never seen so much dilithium in my entire life," Harry intoned incredulously. The unmistakable crystals glistened across the walls even in the dim illumination offered by their wrist lights.

Pausing mid-stretch, Tom looked toward the middle of the open space. "Is that a dilithium stalactite?"

B'Elanna followed his light and gaze to the pointed mound rising from the floor. "Stalagmite," she murmured half to herself.

"What?"

"Stalactites form down from the ceiling. Stalagmites are the ones on the ground. Though if that one is there..." and the engineer played her light over the ceiling above the stalagmite, revealing half a dozen columns of dilithium hanging like icicles above their heads.

"The Starfleet Corps of Engineers would have a field day with this place," Harry remarked.

"Only if they were able to secure the rights to mine it," Kathryn pointed out, bringing her officers back to their immediate task. "Our rendezvous is in this direction," and she led them through the cavern and back into the tunnels.

When at last they arrived at the meeting coordinates, the Arbiteri's reception was formal but not unfriendly. Diminutive in stature, the aliens' markedly large, dark eyes gave a feeling of solemnity, and they appeared to be a reserved, almost shy, people. Nonetheless, they were open to barter, and the negotiations began well. After the initial pleasantries and offers had been made, the Arbiteri withdrew to one side of the meeting area to talk amongst themselves, and Kathryn gathered her people to get a more detailed report on the feasibility of extracting the dilithium.

That's when the cavern began to shake.

It was subtle at first, and Kathryn would almost have passed it off as her own imaginings were it not for the matching frowns that appeared on each of her officers' faces.

"Mr. Kim?" She kept her tone calm, measured. "There was no indication of seismic activity on this moon, was there?"

"No, ma'am," Harry replied with assurance, though his frown only deepened.

The second tremor hit with much less subtlety just as the head of the Arbiteri's delegation rushed back to them, concern obvious even on his unfamiliar features. "You must leave now. The waves have begun. They will only get stronger. You must get back to your ship."

"What about your people?" Kathryn didn't press for specifics about what was happening: 'waves' and 'will only get stronger' combined with the movement beneath her feet told her what she immediately needed to know.

The alien shook his head. "We are cave-dwellers and have our own ways to last out the waves, but you surface-dwellers will not survive. You must go."

Wasting no more time, Kathryn nodded her understanding and motioned sharply to the others. It had taken them nearly a half an hour to descend through the caves; she doubted that they would get as much time to make the return trip.

Despite the steadily increasing movement of the surface underfoot, they made quick progress back up through the tunnels until they once again entered the cavern with the stalagmite marking its center. There, the ground began to roll and pitch beneath them. Kathryn lurched back as the others were thrown forward. Looking up as she regained her balance, she saw one of the larger stalactites, damaged and now hanging precariously above them.

"Watch above!" she managed to shout before, with the next roll of the earth, the dilithium came crashing down. She sprang for the nearest wall, instinctively covering her head against the shattering crystal. When her vision cleared, she saw that Tom, Harry and B'Elanna were nearly at the far opening to the passageway leading up to the surface.

"Go!" she shouted to them across the heaving floor and over the deafening sound of crashing rocks and dilithium. "I'll be right behind you." And, seeing their collective hesitation, "That's an order – go now!"

Then the world went black.


	3. III

**III.  
**_:Delta Flyer to Away Team, do you copy? Torres to Paris: Tom, are you there?:_

The long-ignored knot that had formed in the pit of Tom's stomach the moment he sent Harry and B'Elanna ahead unclenched at the sound of the static-ridden hail. He scrambled to grab his comm badge, still pinned to his discarded uniform jacket.

"We're here," Tom reassured as he tapped the line open. "And in more or less one piece. I've dealt with the Captain's injuries for the moment, but she isn't going to be able to walk out of here anytime soon."

_:I don't think either of you are going to be able to do that. Harry and I made it up just before the tunnels collapsed:_

He blinked hard, trying not to imagine that. "You're both okay?"

_:We're fine. A few cuts and bruises: _

'A few cuts and bruises' could cover a lot of ground with B'Elanna, but he let it go.

"So if we can't get out through the tunnels, I assume you two have some other ingenious plan for rescuing us?"

_:We might. Is the Captain conscious?:_

"I'm here, B'Elanna," the Captain replied for herself. "What do you and Harry have up your sleeves?"

It was Harry who answered. _:Captain, are you familiar with the surveys that the Enterprise performed in the Selcundi Drema sector about ten years ago?:_

The Captain's forehead creased and an eyebrow lifted slightly as she searched her memory. "They were surveying a series of planets being torn apart by unfamiliar but apparently natural geological forces." Tom watched as comprehension dawned and a scientist's excitement lit her face. "They determined that dilithium deposits were causing tectonic stresses on the planets' cores."

_:Exactly:_ B'Elanna took back over. _:We think that this moon is experiencing a similar effect. The dilithium seems to have aligned itself into lattices which are capable of producing a piezoelectric effect. They could be transforming the ionic energy from the atmosphere into the seismic waves we experienced: _

The Captain was nodding. "That would explain why the sensors didn't pick up on the potential seismic instability. The dilithium lattices wouldn't leave the same geological markers as other forms of tectonic stress."

_:That's what we were thinking as well: _Harry agreed.

Three science-types on an open comm line could make for unnecessarily lengthy conversations. Feeling it was time, or past time, to step in, Tom interrupted, "This is all fascinating, but how exactly does it get us out of here? Not that the place isn't starting to grow on me, but, as far as I understand what you are saying, those tremors weren't a one time adventure." And, now that he knew that the passage to the surface was sealed, the air was beginning to feel a bit thin, but he left that unsaid. His friends would be all too aware of that reality without his reminder.

_:We think: _B'Elanna continued, and Tom could imagine from her tone the exasperated look that she would be throwing at the _Flyer_'s communications panel in his absence _:that we should be able to use the piezoelectric effect to boost the transporters and cut through the interference from both the ionized atmosphere and the dilithium in order to beam you out. We're already using the lattice to augment the comm signal:_

"How much time do you need?" the Captain asked, now fully back in command mode.

_:We should be able to make an attempt in a little under an hour. But, Captain, we're working on theory here:_ B'Elanna let the full implications of that go unstated. Tom caught his captain's eye and nodded.

"Understood. I have full faith in you and Harry," and with that she signed off.

Now that they had a time frame for how long it would likely be before they could get the Captain back to _Voyager'_s sickbay_,_ Tom pulled the medkit back open and began to check up on her injuries. Her leg was stable, with all arteries clear and no complications present. The injury to her head gave him pause: a field tricorder could only tell him so much. Wishing he had a few of the EMH's diagnostic algorithms, he tried consulting his patient: "How is your head feeling, Captain?"

"I'll live," was the short reply, giving Tom renewed sympathy for the Doc's ongoing battle to convince his commanding officer to give even a modicum of consideration to her own well-being.

Predictably, her attention had already turned elsewhere. "Selcundi Drema. Do you know the story, Mr. Paris?"

So they were back to that. "Sure. That was during my last year at the Academy – the second year of the _Enterprise_'s mission. Everything that happened on that ship became instant gossip."

"Including their run-ins with the Prime Directive?"

He matched her gaze, unflinching. "Especially those."

"If I recall, Captain Picard and his crew were commended for their actions."

And then he was tired of the game. If they were going to have it out, then out with it.

"The circumstances were different," no need to clarify from what.

A corner of her mouth twitched.

"Are you trying to let me off the hook, Mr. Paris?" Her tone made it clear that she didn't feel she needed the help.

Despite everything, he chuckled. "I'd never be so presumptuous, Captain." Her raised eyebrow begged to differ, but he merely continued, "I was a 'Fleet brat too, you know, plus I had the benefit of those yearly Prime Directive lectures." Finishing up his work on her injuries, he returned the equipment to the medkit. "I know the nuances and the unwritten exceptions; the reasons that reprimands turn into commendations. At Drema IV, Picard had a request for help, albeit from an unusual source. And – always the kicker – there was a chance to save a sentient race from extinction."

With Monea, there had only been an ocean. And a direct order not to interfere.

She considered that, and him, for a long moment.

"Are you saying you were wrong?"

Tom shook his head, sitting back on his heels. "No. But neither were you."

At that, her look turned measured. She nodded: "I'm listening."

_Right then. Begin at the beginning, Thomas..._

"Captain, four years ago in Auckland, you made me an offer – an offer that was very straight-forward in Starfleet terms: I would help out in what ways I could to apprehend members of a terrorist organization, and you'd give me a chance at an early parole."

She nodded again, accepting the apparent _non sequitur_, letting him speak.

He swallowed hard and then continued. "I sold myself out for that deal, in a way that I never had before, even, maybe especially, when I joined up with the Maquis." He cocked his head to one side, his mouth setting in a thin line. "What I said then – that I was 'all yours'? I don't think either of us had any idea how true those words would be."

"Tom..." she began in something between a reproach and a denial. But he waved her off.

"You were offering me a deal that any good mercenary would jump at – or any good Starfleet officer for that matter. You had no way of knowing that I was neither fish nor fowl." She seemed unappeased; as far as she was concerned that release from prison had granted him a clean slate – '_a fresh start_' as she had so recently put it. His admission that it had been anything but that would be both unexpected and unwelcome. However, now that he had started, he barreled on: "What I chose to do at Monea: I knew that it was absolutely the wrong decision for a Starfleet officer and that there would be no loopholes for me to slip through. I knew what the consequences would be and accepted them long before I stood in front of you in your ready room, before I ever set foot on the _Flyer._"

He paused for a moment then, holding her gaze with the intensity of his own. "But, Captain, it was the right decision for me to make – as right as that choice to take your deal in Auckland was wrong." The brilliant blue, living gem that was the Monean ocean flashed through his mind's eye, and he felt the echo of his conviction that something must be done to save the wonder and uniqueness of that world – whatever the personal cost of that action might be. "I walked out of your ready room that day my own man, certainly for the first time since Auckland, maybe for the first time in my life."

Tom watched as she processed his words, knowing how much he was asking of her. Kathryn Janeway might at times be impulsive and prone to act on instinct, but those instincts had been honed on Starfleet's core doctrines and those doctrines served as both her compass and anchor in the turbulence of the Delta Quadrant. He had veered from those precepts onto his own path and was neither offering apology nor asking for forgiveness. Instead, he was asking her to understand. To understand him.

She had said that day that she admired his principles. But, a lot had been said, and left unsaid, that day.

At last, she began, "So, this time, you chose the cause over the deal," and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face as she added, "and I lost _my_ lieutenant." He didn't miss the emphasis.

"But you gained an ensign," he countered with emphasis of his own, echoing that smile.

"I still don't agree with what you chose to do."

Tom's expression didn't waver. "I never thought that you would."

A beat or two passed while each weighed the other's words and the new balance that had been left between them.

Coming to some decision, the Captain drew her brows together, raising her chin in mock imperiousness. "Well then, _Ensign_, as I asked before: do you intend to make a habit of ignoring my orders?" Her voice was laced with levity, but her gaze betrayed the depth of her question's importance.

He met that gaze evenly. "Captain, if I did, I would have handed back that first pip when you took the second." He let that settle for a moment before continuing, "Taking the deal that day in New Zealand was one of the two worst decisions I've made in my life; choosing to serve under your command when you offered back my commission was one of the better ones."

She actually laughed at that, if ruefully. "I must say, Mr. Paris, that I'm rather glad you make that distinction."

"Thank B'Elanna some time." He smiled at that memory and, at her puzzled look, explained, "For a conversation we had, a long time ago."

She raised an eyebrow at him in question. "Somehow, I doubt that she would appreciate any gratitude on that score from me right now."

"No, likely not," he admitted.

That eyebrow twitched, along with a corner of her mouth. "Any chance you could throw me some help in that quarter, Ensign?"

"Oh, hell no, Captain," Tom tripped over himself to respond before she got any ideas. "I have older sisters, remember? I learned early on that only someone with a death wish gets himself caught in the middle of a...well, in the middle of _anything_ between two strong women."

Her eyes sparked with silent mirth at his discomfort. "Well, in that case, Mr. Paris, I'll resist making it an order. I think we'd like to keep you alive and well for a long time to come."

* * *

There was blackness around the edge of her vision which had nothing to do with the darkness of the cave. Possibly, Tom's increasing concern for her head wound might have some merit. When she felt the first of the renewed tremors beneath her, she decided that it was time to check in with the _Flyer_.

"Janeway to _Delta Flyer_," she opened the line. "Harry and B'Elanna, how are you progressing?"

_:We are just about ready. B'Elanna wants to run one more test:_

The ground began to move again, the waves steadily and rapidly intensifying.

"I'm not sure we have time for that test," Tom murmured. Kathryn nodded agreement.

"Harry, if you are going to try this, it needs to be now."

There was a pause. _:Understood, Captain. Just know that you may be in for a bit of a bumpy ride:_

Struggling to brace her arms against the rocking floor, she returned, "I think that's unavoidable one way or the other at this point, Mr. Kim. Just make sure we make it out the other end."

_:Aye, Captain. Engaging transporters now.: _

_Released from the transporter beam's hold, only a strong pair of arms saved her from collapse._

"_Captain!"_

A second set of arms and she was being lifted onto one of the bunks.

"_That trip through the transporter didn't do her head wound any favors. We need to get her back to Voyager."_

"_Go. I'll stay with her."_

_A pause.__ "__Monitor her vitals – here. Comm me if any of these change."_

"_Right.__" __Then, "Are you __okay__?" Even barely conscious, the layers to that question were obvious._

"_Yeah. We...talked. Things are better...good."_

A non-committal grunt.

"_B'Elanna..."_

"_Later. Go. I'll comm you if anything changes."_

Shuffling, and then quiet.

The last thing she felt before surrendering to unconsciousness was the pressure of a warm hand wrapped around her own.


	4. IV

**IV.  
**"So I hear you geniuses did it again."

Harry looked up as Tom settled into the chair across from him, his friend's tray filled with Neelix's semi-digestible special for the evening.

"Hmm?" was the best he could manage through a mouth full of food.

"I heard that you, Seven and B'Elanna solved the Arbiteri's piezoelectric effect problem."

"Oh, yeah," Harry acknowledged. "It was pretty simple really. Basically just selective dilithium extraction. B'Elanna and Seven calculated where we would need to remove crystal mass in order to disrupt the lattice that had formed. The Arbiteri were overjoyed to have an end to the instability, not to mention relieved to hear that their colony would not, in fact, self-destruct within a few years. And, as an added bonus, we get to warp away from here with our cargo bays full of as much dilithium as we can safely transport."

"Very nice. No muss, no fuss." Tom nodded appreciatively. "If only they could all be that simple, Harry."

Harry gave the pilot a sharp look, but Tom's expression remained relaxed and his only discomfort seemed to be the result of the food that he was ingesting. Evidently, there had been more than one bonus to this particular mission.

The doors of the messhall slid open, and Captain Janeway entered, reading a PADD as she walked. Looking up, she spotted Tom and Harry and, without hesitation, moved toward their table. Both men began to stand on reflex, but she waved them back to sitting. "As you were, gentlemen. What has Mr. Neelix concocted for us today?"

"An old favorite: pleeka rind casserole," Tom returned easily, and Harry noticed that the Captain's hand had come to rest in its customary position on the back of the pilot's chair. "I would rate it as only mildly offensive."

Her attempt at a remonstrating look was spoiled by a chuckle, and then Harry nearly choked when Tom added, "Would you care to join us, Captain?"

With seeming regret, she began, "Unfortunately, I..."

A clearly flustered Neelix rushed up, cutting her off: "Captain! Harry, Tom – I'm sorry to interrupt. But, Captain, if I could have a word for just a moment..." And, with a gesture of apology to her officers, the Captain put an arm around the Talaxian's shoulders, leading him away.

Harry stared at the pilot with mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Find a new rulebook, Paris? I thought junior officers didn't invite captains to sit down."

Tom shrugged, taking another bite of his dinner. "I hear it's what all the ensigns are doing these days – cheeky bastards that we are. Something about ideas of commanding officers wanting respect over courtesy being out of date?"

"Not that I would ever say 'I told you so'..."

"Have I mentioned that the casserole is particularly piquant tonight?"

The Captain returned, having traded her PADD for a steaming cup of coffee. "Well, I was supposed to discuss the rearrangement of the cargo space with Mr. Neelix, but he seems to have been called away for emergency godfather duties." With that, she unceremoniously set her coffee down on their table and drew up an extra chair. "So I guess I'm all yours, gentlemen."

At that, Tom's eyes sparked with a particular species of intrigue with which Harry was all too familiar. Pleeka rind pushed aside, Harry watched as his friend leaned forward, turning the full force of his blue-eyed charm on his commanding officer. "Well, in that case, Captain, I've been wanting to get the benefit of your particular expertise for a new holoprogram idea I have. This one will have a Gaelic theme..."


End file.
